Fix You
by daydayrivers
Summary: Brittany accidentally spills Santana's biggest secret so the two look to set things right on a middle of the night adventure. Brittana
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Well would you look at that! I'm back! It's been forever, so I'm a little rusty. Anyway, here's a little something for you all to enjoy! The title came straight from my noggin, but Coldplay's 'Fix You' can be an inspiration as well! Enjoy!**

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><p>When in the moment of it, there is absolutely nothing worse than lying in bed for hours on end trying to fall sleep but failing miserably to do so. If not incredibly annoying, it's also downright frustrating. Unfortunately for one Brittany S. Pierce, that was exactly what she was experiencing. Her brain just would not shut up. It kept talking to her, bringing up things she didn't want to think about and replaying memories like moving pictures in her head. She didn't want to deal with any of it, though. It was late, she was tired, and she just want to sleep. It had been hours since she had first lain down. She tossed and turned in an attempt to find a more comfortable position, scrunched her eyes shut to try and make it darker, counted sheep to as high of a number as she could get without getting distracted by something or another, but it seemed that she just couldn't fall asleep for the life her.<p>

There was one thing in particular that was bothering her, though, more-so than everything else on her mind. It plagued her thoughts even when she tried to distract herself. It left her feeling pensive and worn-down and if anything she just wanted to completely forget it altogether and go to sleep.

But she knew it wasn't that easy. This wasn't something that she could easily forget. This was something that could come back to haunt her—something that she hated herself for (even if it had been a mistake)—something that could ruin her _everything_.

After one last turn of her long, lanky body, and an unsuccessful attempt at counting sheep (that had somehow turned into wooly ducks), she sat up in her queen-sized bed in a huff. Reaching for her phone on her nightstand, she punched the first number on her speed-dial and pressed the phone to her ear.

She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. But she couldn't wake her family. She would feel guilty for that and that was the last thing she wanted to feel in that moment. So who better to call than her best friend and one Santana Lopez?

Santana would talk her through this. She might not have been the most ideal person to call in this situation, particularly since Santana was often grumpy when she was prematurely awoken from her slumbers, but she had a way with words when it came to comforting and reassuring Brittany and she always knew exactly what to say to make things better.

However, Santana did not answer her phone and Brittany closed her cell with sigh, not bothering to leave a message. She turned and took one last look at her bed. There was no way she was going to try to fall asleep again. It just wasn't going to happen.

Well, if Santana wasn't going to pick up her phone, she'd have to go with plan B. Plan B wasn't necessarily the easiest course of action, but Brittany was absolutely determined to talk to Santana, even if the thought of it made her a little anxious.

She gulped nervously before pulling on the fuzzy slippers that were on the floor by her bed. Moving as quietly as she could, she exited her bedroom and moved about her house, not wanting to get caught in the process.

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><p>Brittany rested her hand on the doorknob and let her long, thin fingers turn the knob as she slowly eased open the door. She leaned forward and peered into the room, trying to make as little noise as possible in case the inhabitant of the room was asleep.<p>

"Santana?" She whispered, albeit loudly enough so that the noise would be audible in case the other girl was in fact awake.

The room was as still and quiet at it was dark, but Brittany stepped inside anyway and shut the door behind her as quietly as she could. She then preceded to tiptoe across the room, her steps light and silent, as only a trained dancer such as herself could do. Upon approaching the bed, she came to a standstill and let her gaze wander the motionless body in front of her.

Santana's eyes were closed softly and she wore a gentle, calm expression on her face. Her thick, dark hair fell loosely around her face and billowed across the pillow beneath her head. Brittany had to physically stop herself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind the sleepy girl's ear.

_She looks so peaceful_.

Apart from when the two were alone together, Brittany was constantly subjected to a scowling Santana. Seeing her look so at ease was both comforting and relieving. Although Brittany didn't necessarily dislike Santana's hard, bitchy exterior—no, Santana did in fact keep it real and could indeed be quite hilarious—seeing her smile and laugh was always so much _better_. That attitude had saved her on a number of occasions, though. Santana always stuck up for her no matter what and she could dish out a kick-ass insult or comeback to put you right back in your place to boot, and for that she was appreciative of it. However, Brittany was certainly far from dumb, and she recognized that this persona was a defense mechanism—a sort of wall or shield that Santana had built to protect herself. Although what exactly Santana was defending herself from, she had yet to entirely decipher. What bothered her most about Santana's harsh personality was when she used it in Glee club. Brittany did indeed love everyone in Glee club and the cliché held true: Glee club was a family and that family included Santana, who had even openly admitted to enjoying it. What Brittany didn't understand was why Santana was so constantly set on berating that family and tearing them down. On the occasion that Santana did let her guard down during Glee, Brittany couldn't help but feel like a kid on Christmas morning. The instance always prompted a warm, fuzzy feeling to radiate through her lanky body and usually resulted in a bright, big, toothy smile, (and eventually later to Sweet Lady Kisses as a form of reward for a well-behaved Santana). Unfortunately, a true smile or even the lack of a scowl was a rare occurrence that usually didn't surface unless the two were alone together. So Brittany was grateful to be able to see her best friend in such a calm, peaceful state without Santana's knowledge of her own presence.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, she remembered why she had come and leaned down ever-so slightly so that she was closer to the sleeping beauty.

"Santana..." she whispered for the second time. The girl's foot fidgeted under the covers out of the corner of her eye, but aside from that rapid movement Santana continued on with her comfortable slumber.

"Santana!" Brittany hissed between closed teeth.

Again she received no response. If there was one thing Santana was truly great at, it was sleeping like a rock.

She pressed a hand to a toned bicep and squeezed lightly. "San!" She said, this time above a whisper.

As soon as the word had escaped her mouth, she felt the bicep trapped in her grip abruptly flex itself. As quickly as she was able to recognize the motion, though, the muscles unclenched and Santana let out a muffled groan.

The body shifted itself in the bed and the girl's eyelids slowly drew back after a slow exhale escaped her lips. Santana's eyes sleepily rested on the tall blonde standing next to her, glassy and foggy from sleep. After a few short moments, she furrowed her brow and upon regaining conscious awareness, she quickly blinked a few times in succession before jolting upright and letting out a startled yelp.

"Jesus! Shit, Brittany!" She yelled in a hushed whisper, using the girl's entire first name rather than one of the usual abbreviated nicknames. Santana was sitting up in bed now, the blankets thrown off of her upper body and twisted around her legs.

"Hi," Brittany whispered back.

"You scared the fucking shit out of me!" She put a hand over her chest to emphasize her exasperated breathing. "What the hell are you doing here?" She leaned over and checked the clock on the bedside table to the left of her. "It's the middle of the fucking night!"

"You didn't answer your phone," Brittany stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, maybe because I was sleeping!" Santana countered, putting extra emphasis on the final word.

"I see that now, but I thought that maybe you lost your phone or dropped it in the toilet again."

"That was _one_ time!" She retorted, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Brittany ignored the remark. "I was hoping you were awake."

"Well I am now..." Santana mumbled under her breath.

"What was that, S?"

"Nothing. And anyway," she shook her head, "how the hell did you even get in here? My window's locked."

"I know where your parents keep the spare key," Brittany stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Britt, I don't even know where they keep that thing."

Brittany shrugged.

"But why are you here?" Santana prodded, considering she had been snubbed of an answer the first time she asked.

"I couldn't sleep."

Santana exhaled a loud sigh. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. "So let me get this straight," she began, "you snuck out of your house, walked a mile to get here—in the dark—and then broke into my house, all just so you could tell me that you can't sleep?"

"I used a key, so _technically_ I didn't break in."

Santana raised an apprehensive eyebrow. "So is that a 'yes'?"

"Yep." Brittany nodded her head. "You didn't answer your phone, so my only other option was to come tell you myself." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Santana looked the girl up and down. Brittany was dressed in a pair of cotton short-shorts, a loose t-shirt, and her bare feet were partially covered by a pair of slippers. Her hair was tied up in a loose, messy bun. She smiled anxiously at Santana, who couldn't help but notice that it literally looked like Brittany must have climbed straight out of bed and left her house, not bothering to change or adjust her appearance in the slightest. Had she not been a little miffed at being awoken from her peaceful slumber, she would have found it quite adorable.

Santana let out a sigh, unable to resist her best friend and that endearing smile that covered her face. She pulled the blankets back a little and scooted over to the far side of the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Alright," she conceded, drawing out the word a bit. "C'mere, you. You must be freezing. It's cold outside."

Brittany let out a little squeak of excitement and bounded up and down a few times before kicking off her slippers and climbing in next to Santana. She situated herself beneath the sheets and blankets and sidled up next to Santana so that they were sat just a few inches apart.

"So why can't you sleep, huh?" Santana prodded Brittany's arm playfully.

Brittany chewed on the bottom of her lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. I was just thinking about stuff and couldn't fall asleep."

"Like what? What kind of stuff keeps my Britt-Britt up at night?" Santana comfortably snaked an arm around the girl's torso and pulled her against her body so that their sides were flush with one another. To her surprise and for having just walked outside in the chilly, Fall night air wearing little clothing, her body was relatively warm.

Brittany was silent.

Santana waited for a few quiet moments until she was sure that she would get no answer. She glanced to her right to see Brittany's eyes glued to the ceiling. It wasn't that blank stare that Brittany often sported when she zoned out. Rather, her pupils seemed to dance around the whites of her eyes, almost as if she was drawing patterns and shapes into the ceiling.

Santana's expression fell a little and a pang of concern began to sweep over her. "Britt, is something bothering you?" She touched the girl's wrist reassuringly.

Brittany continued to worry her bottom lip between her teeth, but she eventually pried her eyes off the ceiling to quickly glance at Santana before readjusting her gaze to stare at the wall across the room. She let out a tiny sigh that was so quiet that Santana wasn't sure if she had actually heard it at all.

"I don't know...I mean, I guess..." Her voice was low and barely above a whisper.

The fact that Brittany refused to look at Santana sent a chill down her spine. She frowned and tried to match Brittany's gaze across the room, as if inspecting the wall for whatever could possibly be more important or interesting than herself in this very moment. She hated when Brittany was so aloof. They were best friends for God's sake—relationship complications aside. What could possibly make Brittany so uncomfortable as to avoid her line of questioning? And more so, why did she feel such an aversion to straight up telling her what was on her mind? Isn't that what best friends are supposed to do? If anything, Santana felt a little offended that Brittany would withhold something from her, particularly something that appeared to bother her to the point where she felt unsure as to whether or not she could even confide in her own best friend. However, she quickly shook it off upon seeing the distorted look of worry on her friend's face, realizing that if there was indeed something really bothering Brittany, that that was not okay—not if she had anything to say about it.

"Hey," Santana whispered softly. She gently took Brittany's chin in her fingers and angled it so that they were facing each other. She then preceded to tuck a strand of blonde hair out of her face and behind her ear. "You know you can tell me anything, B. Right?"

"Well, yeah—"

"If you tell me I can try and make it better." She offered Brittany a small, encouraging smile as she tightened her hold around her torso in a pseudo-hug.

"I don't know about this time..."

"Are you doubting my innate, magical ability to cheer my favorite blondie up?"

"Oh, no, it's just—this time I don't think there's anything you can do. Even with your superpower."

Santana furrowed her brow. "Britt, what's going on?"

"You're going to be mad," Brittany mumbled, looking down to avoid Santana's piercing gaze.

"You know I could never really be mad at you."

"Mhm." Again, the answer was mumbled and half-hearted.

Santana sighed at Brittany's continued aversion to her questioning and her stubborn determination to avoid telling her what was bothering her. "You didn't come here because you couldn't sleep, did you?"

Brittany turned again to face Santana. "Kind of...I just feel really guilty, and I don't want you to be mad at me, and I really want to be able to go to sleep, and I also kind of really sorta just wanted to see you." She threw her arms around Santana and buried her head against her shoulder. "Please don't be mad at me!"

"Brittany," Santana said slowly, "what did you do?"

It was silent for a short moment before Brittany finally blurted out, "I-accidentally-told-Rachel-you-were-lebanese-and-then-I-told-her-about-us!" The words came out quickly, strewn together to sound like one long, jumbled word rather than a coherent sentence.

Santana's heart skipped a beat. "I'm sorry, what?" She asked, shaking her head and hoping that she had heard the blonde wrong. "And a little slower this time, please."

Brittany swallowed forcefully before removing her head from Santana's shoulder and meekly stating, "I accidentally told Rachel that you're a lesbian and that we have—feelings—for each other." Upon getting the final word out she unwrapped herself from Santana, turned around, and quickly slipped as far she could underneath the sheets, covering her head with a pillow as a shield to hide from what she could only presume would be an angry, raging Santana, who at any second would go off on a fiery rampage.

Brittany had seen Santana angry before, plenty of times at that, albeit that anger was never directed at herself. Much like an angry Coach Sylvester, when provoked it was best to duck and run for cover because not only would Santana: A) Kick your ass, and, B) Slash you with her vicious, vicious words (which included both English and Spanish variations), but she also had a bit of a reputation for kicking, throwing, and generally going into 'bull-in-a-china-shop' mode and devastating a room. To put it bluntly, Santana was capable of going bat-shit crazy and it was not a pleasant site to see.

However, the attack never came. Instead, the room was dead silent and absolutely still.

Santana looked like a deer caught in headlights with her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. She hadn't believed her ears the first time and had hoped that she'd simply imagined that she'd heard some of the worst words she could possibly ever hear. But Brittany had confirmed it and now it seemed like her worst fear, something that often was the cause of tantalizing nightmares, was becoming a reality.

Inside her chest her heartbeat felt erratic: first it would speed up along with her adrenaline, pumping rapidly and reverberating into a pounding in the back of her skull, to the point where it felt like at any second it would beat out of her chest, but then the beating would almost instantly vanish to where she could no longer feel anything but the absence and tightness that one feels when their heart skips consecutive beats.

Her palms were quickly growing clammy and sweaty, and she soon came to the realization that her entire body was shaking. She tried to stop it, tried to get a hold of herself, but her mind was racing a million miles a minute and she couldn't focus enough to regain control.

_This can't be happening. This can't be happening. No. No, no, no, no, no! Not now. I'm not ready. It's not supposed to happen like this. No one was supposed to know. How much would a plane ticket to New York cost? There's always Tribeca. Oh God, Brittany, why did you have to say something? And Berry at that? Jesus fuck, she'll tell everyone. No, this can't be happening to me!_

She wanted to scream, and cry, and throw things, and cuddle up with Brittany who would whisper soothing things into her ear to comfort her all at the same time. Her emotions were running wildly about, pulling her in all different directions and she didn't know which one was the appropriate one to be feeling. Should she be angry? Scared? Sad? All of the above? Was it, dare she even say it—a good thing? Maybe this was a step in the right direction—

_No, dammit! You're not ready to come out. People aren't supposed to know yet. This is going to ruin everything! Everyone is going to find out and then you'll be eaten alive. Your reputation will be over. You'll be over._

At the lack of outburst, Brittany slowly poked her head out from underneath the pillow to study Santana's reaction. She was visibly shaking and her eyes and expression were blank, as if she were lost in her own little world.

"S-S-San-Santana?" She stuttered over the name and bit her lower lip apprehensively as she waited for a response. When she did not receive one, she slowly pulled herself up and tapped the trembling girl lightly on the shoulder. "San, are you okay?"

Upon feeling the touch on her shoulder, Santana was yanked from her thoughts and brought back to a worried-looking Brittany. She looked sullen and frightened, her body language conveying her own disappointment in herself as she hunched her shoulders and clasped her hands together against her body.

"Are you mad at me?" Brittany whispered.

Santana took one more long look at Brittany, surveying her up and down before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

_Alright, S. You are Santana Motherfucking Lopez. You've got to stop moping and crying about it. Suck it the fuck up, the damage is done. Now do something about it before it gets out of hand._

"No, I told you, B. I can't ever be mad at you," she finally replied.

"But I—"

"Did you mean to?"

"Oh, well, no..."

"Then I'm not mad."

"Okay." The word was whispered.

"Just tell me one thing. When did it happen?"

"Today, after school."

"Perfect." At that, Santana hopped out of bed and began quickly moving about her room. She went over to her dresser and changed into a pair of sweatpants before locating her shoes and hastily slipping them on her feet. She was going to fix this.

"San, what are you doing?" Brittany sounded more confused than normal, her voice laced with animosity.

Santana ignored her question. "Get up and put some shoes on. Change your clothes if you're going to be cold—you can borrow whatever you want. We're going out."

Brittany slowly got out of bed and approached Santana's closet. She chose a sweatshirt and slipped it on over her t-shirt. She began looking around the room for her slippers, all the while keeping an eye on the bustling Santana who was gathering various items, including her car keys, and throwing them in her purse. She watched as Santana grabbed her phone, dialed a number, and held the phone to her ear.

"Who are you calling?" Brittany asked wearily.

"Berry. We're going to go pay her a little visit."

Brittany exhaled heavily. "Santana—" she began, in hopes of talking some sense into her strung out best friend, but she was quickly cut off.

"I'm going to fix this," Santana stated sternly. Aside from an almost undetectable waver in her voice, Santana had seemingly regained her composure and sounded just as determined as ever.

The phone continued to ring against her ear. _Bitch, answer your damn phone! _To her dissatisfaction it went to voicemail and Rachel's prerecorded rambling filled her ear.

Angrily, she hung up. "Fuck! She didn't answer."

Brittany looked at Santana as if she'd said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "Well of course not, San. No one answers their phone in the middle of the night. Everyone's sleeping."

Santana's jaw dropped as she stared at Brittany.

"What?"

"But you—earlier—I—" She sighed and massaged her temples in an attempt to relieve her growing stress-headache. "Never mind. C'mon, let's go."

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading and hopefully you enjoyed it! Remember, reviews make for happy writers and happy writers put out chapters faster! And now for some shameless self-promotion: feel free to follow me on Tumblr! Link on my FF profile!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I'd like to briefly point out that this chapter is a little angstier than the rest of this fic, or at least what I have written so far. The next few chapters will be much more light-hearted, I promise!**

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><p>Brittany stared out the window inattentively. Her gaze wandered in the dark, subconsciously being drawn towards the dim lights that emitted from the occasional house. Most were dark and silent in the late hour. She began to count the streetlamps as they drove by. There were way more than she'd ever noticed. She felt silly doing it, like a kid in the backseat of a car on a road trip, but she needed the distraction. The drive had been painfully silent and as a rarity, kind of awkward. Santana had turned off the radio, something that she hardly ever did considering she loved to blast loud music in the car, particularly when it was just the two of them together. They would always sing as loudly as they could and dance around in their seats to whatever happened to be playing through the speakers and bumping the bass. But not tonight. Santana drove with both hands on the wheel, her arms tensed and hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. Her gaze was locked straight ahead and her mouth was curved into a half scowl, half frown. It was all too much for Brittany to handle and she eventually turned away to stare outside as a much-needed escape from the painful awkwardness that she had found herself in.<p>

For much of the drive Brittany wasn't sure how to feel. It felt like her emotions were having a sort of battle royale. On one hand she felt guilty. This was all her fault. She had ruined everything. The Fondue For Two incident with Mercedes, Tina, and the Muckraker had been bad enough, but this time it wasn't a misunderstanding and she hadn't screwed up her words. Santana would probably never trust her again. And God only knows what this would do to their relationship. She might have to find a new best friend. Not to mention Santana was probably going to kill Rachel and she'd be forced to sit and watch as some sort of cruel and unusual punishment for letting the cat out of the bag.

On the other hand, telling Santana had probably been the right thing to do. If she had avoided the subject who knows what would have happened? Knowing Rachel and how gossip spreads at McKinley, it probably would have only been a matter of hours before the situation got out of hand and everyone knew. (Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing for Brittany—she wanted people to know—but Santana was dead set against it at this point, and she wasn't going to rush her into anything if that's not what she wanted.) Brittany absolutely hated confrontation and that was all the reason not to have confessed her mistake to Santana. Had she not told, Santana probably would have ended their friendship on the spot once she learned that it had been Brittany who had spilled the beans. This was no little secret and coming from a best friend, it would be the worst kind of betrayal. For the sake of their relationship, it was probably best that she had told Santana of her slip-up.

Brittany looked over at Santana. Although she still sported that frown-scowl and appeared to be concentrated on her faster-than-normal driving, Brittany could see that something was wrong. Her body language said that she was fine, aside from being a little tense, but her eyes told a different story. There was fear in them. Santana was scared—scared beyond belief. The fact that Brittany was able to see that and read past the misleading front was exactly what made them best friends. Brittany could read Santana and vice versa. They just knew each other like that.

Seeing that look in Santana's eyes physically hurt Brittany. It wasn't something she saw very often from the normally strong, confident girt. She felt an ache in her chest and was instantly swept with a wave of regret.

Maybe coming to see Santana had been a bad idea. She had kind of wanted to tell her what was on her mind, but she had also just wanted to see in her general—to hear her voice and lie in bed next to her until they both fell asleep curled up against one another. She should have known that Santana would have sensed that something was wrong. There was no way she could have ever hidden it. Not only was she a horrible actress, but you just can't hide that kind of stuff from your best friend—especially one like Santana.

She stole another glance at Santana and bit the inside of her lip. With each minute closer to the Berry household the tension in the car continued to build. Between that, the worry in Santana's eyes, and her own inner moral dilemma, she had to say something. She couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"San?" she whispered. She was given no immediate response so she cautiously went on. "Look, I'm really sorry. I never meant to do this to you. I hope you know that I wouldn't ever do something like this on purpose. It just sort of slipped out. You know how I don't always think before I say stuff." Santana didn't even falter. Her eyes stay glued to the windshield. "I know that you said that you're not mad at me, but it's okay if you are," Brittany continued. "I understand. You can be mad at me. I would be..." She trailed off for a second to collect her thoughts. "You mean the world to me, Santana, and I would _never, ever, ever_ try to hurt you. You're my best friend and best friends don't do that to each other. Just know that I'm really, really, _really_ sorry. If you don't want to accept my apology, that's okay too. I'll understand." She finished her short monologue and self-consciously stared at her hands in her lap.

It was silent for another few moments before Santana let out a soft sigh and tore her eyes from the road for the first time since getting in the car. Brittany felt the car slow as Santana eased off the accelerator and pulled off onto the side of the road before putting the car in park.

Brittany could feel Santana's chocolate eyes on her and so she gradually looked up to meet her blues with brown. Santana reached over the center console and gently placed a hand atop Brittany's. "I accept your apology. I know that you didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident, I get it. It still hurts, though, you know?"

"Oh God, San, I'm so—" Brittany was cut off.

"Let me finish," Santana said sternly. However, upon seeing Brittany's dejected expression she gave the hand beneath hers a little squeeze. "I'm in such a shitty place in my life right now. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that we've finally talked about 'us'. I'm really grateful that you convinced me to sit down with you and Ms. Holliday. Without that conversation, I don't know where I'd be right now. It feels so good to finally be able to tell you how I feel—to be able to admit to myself that I _do_ feel that way and that it's not something else. But you also have to understand that you're my best friend and these are the kinds of things that I'm comfortable telling you. Just because I can talk to you about this stuff and am able to admit to myself who I am, doesn't mean I'm ready to let everyone else know."

Santana stopped to catch her breath. She hadn't realized it until now, but her breathing had become uneven and she could feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She blinked a few times to try and clear them away. She hadn't meant for this to get emotional, but she knew she had to say what was on her mind. If that meant that she was going to turn into an emotional wreck—so be it.

"I'm not ashamed of who I am. But what I am is afraid. I'm afraid of who I am and what I'm learning about myself because I'm not who I once thought I was. I'm scared because I just want to like myself for who I am, but it's so hard to when I know that other people _won't._ I'm _terrified_ that people will tear me down the same way they did to Kurt—that I'll be bullied to the point where I'll have to change schools and be separated from you." She felt a tear slip from her eye and roll down her cheek. She watched Brittany's eyes follow the tear as it streaked down her face. "I know I've always told you to not care what other people think because you're better than all of them anyway, but it's so hard not to when I'm so scared of what will happen to me." She swallowed loudly. "Or even...what will happen to you." She laced her hand with Brittany's and grabbed the blonde's free hand with her own. Santana looked straight into Brittany's big, blue eyes. She saw fear and worry in them and tightened her hold on the hands that were trapped in hers. "That's why I can't come out, B. I'm not ready to be picked on or to be the butt of people's jokes. I'm not ready for people to stare at me and talk about me behind my back when I hold your hand in the hallway or kiss you at our lockers. Do you know what kind of horrible things they'll say about me? Or what they'll do to me? The people at that school are vicious. Once they find out that the tough, popular girl isn't what she seems, they'll eat me alive. They'll tear me apart. The kind of shit that happened to Kurt? Face it Brittany, that's going to happen to me too. I'm going to get hurt. But more importantly, you will too. And if someone were to ever hurt you, physically or emotionally, I'd never be able to forgive myself for doing this to you. They can say whatever they want to me, slushie me, tear me down until I'm reduced to absolutely _nothing_, but I can't watch them do that to you. I just can't. It would hurt too bad. I'm not capable of handling that."

Tears were freely falling for her eyes now. She didn't even bother wiping them away because her hands were too busy squeezing Brittany's. But Brittany had tears in her eyes too. She was shaking her head, as if trying to dispel Santana's reasoning. She knew it was true, though. Everything that Santana had said would happen. It was inevitable when you lived in small-town Lima.

"You have to understand that I'm hiding this to protect you just as much as I'm doing it to protect myself. I love you—so freaking much—and I refuse to watch you get hurt. I want to be able to be open about myself, I want to _so badly_, but I'm not ready to deal with the consequences of that yet. That's why we're going to see Rachel. I have to do damage control before things get too out of control for me to handle. Do you understand?"

Brittany nodded her head. Her eyes scrunched tightly to fight back more tears. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Santana! This is all my fault!"

The next thing Santana knew, Brittany was leaned over the center console sobbing into her shoulder. Her long arms were wrapped tightly around her neck as she hung on for dear life. Santana laced her arms around Brittany's thin body and gently rubbed her back. The silent tears were still falling from her eyes and it took every ounce of strength she had to keep herself from sobbing along with Brittany.

"Please stop saying you're sorry," she begged. "It's just making things worse."

"Sorry," Brittany replied between sobs, her answer muffled against Santana's shoulder.

Santana choked back a laugh, but a small giggle still managed to find its way out. "See, there you go again."

Brittany smiled against Santana's collarbone. "Sorry."

"God, woman, you must have it out for me." A smile made its way over Santana's lips and she gently pulled Brittany away from her so that she could see it. Brittany was smiling too and for the first time all night everything felt okay.

Santana took a deep breath and looked across at Brittany who was staring back at her. Brittany's sobs had ceased, but a few lone tears still ran down her face. Santana gently reached out and brushed them away with the pad of her thumb. Then she wiped away her own with her forearm.

"No more crying tonight, okay?" Santana said softly. She offered a small smile over to Brittany and held up her outstretched pinky.

"Okay," Brittany whispered back. She grinned at the gesture and linked her pinky with Santana's. The two stared at their interlocked digits for a matter of moments. Neither said a word—they simply took the time to admire what had become the symbol of their friendship.

Brittany breathed a silent sigh of relief. _Everything is going to be okay between us after all._

Santana took a deep breath and shifted her eyes upwards, but along the way her gaze was stopped by the site of Brittany's lips. Brittany seemed to take notice because she gently bit down on her lower lip before returning the gesture and staring at Santana's.

Before Santana was able to process what she was actually doing, she leaned over and pressed her lips to Brittany's. As she did she let out a small sigh. Her hands found their way to soft cheeks and she gently cupped Brittany's face in her hands.

She was always so amazed at how well their lips fit together—like they were made for each other or something. The way their lips moved together, they melded so well, pressing and gliding against each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Even though they had done this plenty of times before, this time, it felt different. Perhaps it was the circumstances they were under, or maybe it was the fact that Santana had just spilled her entire heart's contents, Brittany didn't know. What she did know, however, was that this kiss felt like the most honest thing she'd ever done in her life. She felt butterflies in her stomach, which seemed odd to her considering she wasn't nervous.

In that moment they were both just so happy. For as long as their lips touched they were able to forget about everything. Nothing else mattered. All that existed in that moment of time was each other.

Eventually they were forced to pull away from one another to break for air. Santana leaned back in her seat, a small smile on her face. Brittany watched her out of the corner of her eye.

"Can I ask you something?" Santana finally said. The smile on her face was gone.

"Of course."

"How did it happen? And why Rachel?"

Brittany's smile faded. "I made a deal with her that if she helped me with my homework I would show her some new choreography."

"But—but I always help you with your homework." Santana's voice was laced with jealousy.

"You were busy at the Bully Whips meeting."

"Oh...sorry."

"Yeah." Brittany could tell that Santana felt bad. "That's alright, you were busy trying to make the school a safer place. That's understandable."

"Sure, I guess."

"So anyway, I went over to Rachel's house and she did actually try to help me. She's not as patient or good at it as you are, though. She said I get distracted too easily. And then she got mad when I asked her why her room looks like it was decorated by the Easter Bunny. Eventually she gave up and just did my homework for me. After she was done we were just talking about stuff, well, mostly her because she likes to talk about herself a lot. She kept bringing up Finn and it was really annoying so I told her that her obsession with Finn is creepy. She got mad again and said that I shouldn't say anything because besides Artie, which obviously didn't work, I wouldn't know anything about a real relationship. Then I got angry because what does she know? Her relationship with Finn is unhealthier than Lord Tubbington's chain-smoking habit. I was really offended so I guess I wasn't thinking and then I kind of brought you up and it all just spilled out."

Once she was done telling her story, Brittany looked over to the girl sitting next to her. Santana looked like she had seen a ghost. Her eyes were wide in surprise and her lips were slightly puckered.

"Um, S?" Brittany poked Santana's arm. "S, are you okay? Why does it look like you just swallowed a lemon?"

Santana shook her head quickly. "Wait. Stop. Pause." She pointed a finger and held it in front of her face. "First of all, it is _not _okay for her to talk to _my_ Britts like that. And second, so you mean to tell me that this is _Berry's_ fault?"

"I don't know..." Brittany chewed on the inside of her cheek. Even without Rachel's presence, the conversation had quickly become accusatory and confrontational. That made Brittany incredibly uncomfortable.

"Well, Rachel was the one who made you say it, right? Because you were angry?"

"Yeah..." Brittany looked down and stared at her hands in her lap.

Upon hearing Brittany's answer to her question Santana sat up straighter in her chair. Her eyes narrowed and she jutted her chin out slightly while resuming her scowl in typical BAMF-fashion. She began shaking her head and as she did she started angrily speaking in Spanish.

"S...?" Brittany cautiously said. "You're about to go all Lima Heights aren't you?"

Santana stopped her Spanish ramblings. "Pretty much."

"Okay," Brittany continued sheepishly. "Well promise me you won't kill Rachel or anything."

"Sorry, I can't make any promises," Santana deadpanned.

Brittany's face fell and Santana watched out of the corner of her eye as she nervously fidgeted with her hands in her lap.

Noting the concern on her best friend's face, Santana's expression momentarily softened. "Hey, it'll be okay." Her voice was reassuring and comforting. Then she leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Brittany's cheek.

Shifting the car back into gear, Santana resumed her harsh expression and narrowed gaze and pulled back onto the road and sped towards the Berry house.

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><p><strong>I hope you liked it. The next chapter was really fun to write, so I think you'll enjoy it! Reviews make me happy and make me want to put up the next chapter faster! Otherwise, you'll just have to wait another week. ;)<strong>

**Also, I want to apologize if Santana's speech sounds too much like the Hurt Locker. I just have a lot of feelings about that scene, okay?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This is a little lengthy, but it was so much fun to write. So I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy reading!**

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><p>As soon as they reached Rachel's house Santana abruptly stopped the car and shut off the engine. Without so much as a second glance at Brittany, she quickly got out of the car. Brittany followed cautiously behind.<p>

"San!" She half whispered, half yelled. Santana was on a mission and Brittany had to run to catch up with her.

"What?" Santana finally turned around and glared in Brittany's direction.

"How do you even plan on getting in? It's not like you know where her dads keep the spare key, so we can't just walk through the front door!"

Santana laughed. "The same way I sneak into your house. Or into your room I should say." She turned around and pointed up at the window that was attached to Rachel's bedroom.

"Of course," Brittany replied with a sigh. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Oh, I have a few choice words for our tiny little friend," Santana spat. But upon seeing Brittany's sullen look of disapproval, she quickly added, "And I don't really have a choice. I have to do this. Damage control, remember?"

Brittany nodded. "Alright, fine. But can we make it fast, please? I'm sleepy and I'd really like the Sandman to come visit me."

"No problemo. I'll have myself a nice little talk with Berry and then afterward we can head back to my place—get our cuddle on." She smiled sweetly over at her best friend. "I know you're tired, so hopefully it won't take long." She reached out an extended pinky and linked it with Brittany's before leading her over to a tall tree that stood on the same side of the house as Rachel's bedroom.

Unhooking her pinky from Brittany's, she grabbed the lowest branch that was only a foot or so above her head and used it to pull her body up.

With its wide trunk and all of its dense branches, the tree was practically the perfect tree for climbing and Santana was thankful that it happened to overlook Rachel's room. She quickly climbed and pulled her way up—just because she wasn't a Cheerio anymore didn't mean that she had lost all her athletic ability—until she was perched on a branch level with Rachel's window. However, before proceeding over to the window, Santana made sure to keep an extra-watchful eye over Brittany as she followed in her ascent up the tree.

Once Brittany was safely next to her on the branch, Santana slid over to the window. To her dismay it was shut. There was a good two-foot gap between the end of the branch and the windowsill, so Santana scooted as close to the edge as she could and reached out to the window.

"Careful, San," Brittany squeaked. "I really don't want you to fall. Something tells me you're not going to be very cuddly if you're in a hospital bed in a comma or something."

"Coma," Santana corrected, "and don't worry. I'll be fine." She stretched both her arms out and securely latched onto the sides of the window. Then, she tugged it upwards as quietly, but forcefully as she could. Surprisingly, the window slid right open.

"Huh." She turned around to show Brittany the surprised look on her face. "I never would have guessed that the girl who carries a _rape whistle_ would leave her window unlocked at night." She shrugged her shoulders at Brittany who stared back at her uncertainly. "Alright, let's go."

She swung her feet off the branch and through the window before sliding the rest of her body inside. Then she turned around and offered a hand to Brittany to assist her on her way in. Once Brittany's feet were firmly planted on the carpeted floor, Santana shut the window.

Brittany looked around, surveying the room. Even in the dark she could clearly make out the many stuffed animals, the big canopy bed, the shadow of the elliptical machine in the corner, and the various Broadway paraphernalia scattered about the room.

Santana stepped over to the door and made sure it was shut all the way before locking it and flicking the light switch next to the door. The room was immediately filled with a bright light and Santana was briefly overwhelmed with a far-too-happy shade of yellow that obnoxiously blared from the walls and the sickeningly childish baby-pink of a few assorted pieces of furniture.

"Oh God, Britt, you're right. This place _does_ look like it was decorated by the Easter Bunny," she said, her brow furrowed and face contorted in disgust.

Despite the bright light now illuminating the room, Rachel had barely stirred in her bed. Santana gave the room another once-over before grabbing one of the stuffed animals on Rachel's dresser and heaving it over at the fast-asleep girl. It smacked Rachel right on the forehead before it bounced off the girl, hit the edge of the mattress, and tumbled to the floor. Rachel made a startled grunting noise and Santana let out a little snicker in amusement.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Santana called, throwing caution to the wind and not bothering to keep her voice down. She skipped over to the side of the bed and poked the groggy girl a few times right in the center of her forehead. "Hey, Berry. Wake. The fuck. Up."

Santana watched as Rachel slowly cracked an eyelid and mumbled a little, "Huh?" At that moment a light bulb must have gone off in her head because her eyes immediately shot open and she bolted upright in her bed.

"Good morning," Santana said, sarcastic cheerfulness ringing in her voice and a crooked smile on her face.

Suddenly Rachel let out a shrill, high-pitched shriek that caused both Santana and Brittany—who had situated herself in the corner of the room, away from the action—to jump. Santana quickly clamped a hand over the screaming mouth. "Shut up!" She hissed.

Rachel stopped screaming and fought against the hand over her mouth. She angrily shouted into the hand and then glanced up to get a look at her alleged attacker. She mumbled something that sounded like a muffled, "Santana?" into the appendage covering her face. Then without warning she sank her teeth into flesh.

Santana let out a howl of pain and quickly withdrew her hand. "Ow! What the fuck?" She yelled, tightly scrunching her eyes shut in pain and shaking her hand in the air. Santana glared at Rachel and then turned to face Brittany who was smiling and giggling quietly to herself. "The little cretin bit me!"

In response Brittany just shrugged her shoulders as if to say, "Oh well." Santana rolled her eyes and mumbled a quiet, "Yeah, thanks for caring. No, no need to rush over to make sure I'm okay. I've got it, I'm fine. Don't worry, I'll let you know when the swelling goes down." Brittany shrugged her shoulders again, a small smirk on her face.

Santana turned back to face Rachel. "_Really_, Berry? What the fuck was that for?"

Rachel pulled the sheets up tighter around herself. "I'm sorry, Santana. I hadn't been expecting any visitors. And if you don't already know, might I enlighten you to the fact that it's typically a bad thing to wake up to someone standing over you in the middle of the night! I was simply protecting myself."

"So you _bit _me? I saw you look up at me! The light's on, don't tell me you didn't recognize me!"

"It was in the spur of the moment," Rachel replied haughtily, looking away from the girl angrily standing over her.

"Well thanks. Remind me to make a doctor's appointment after I leave. I'm going to have to get vaccinated for rabies now."

Rachel glared up at Santana from her spot on the bed. "What are you even doing here? It's the middle of the night and I don't appreciate being woken up like this. I have a schedule to adhere to and I need to rest my vocal chords," Rachel questioned smugly, ignoring Santana's remark.

"Britts and I," Santana stepped aside to reveal a lurking Brittany in the corner—she gave Rachel a smile and a small wave, "need to have a little talk with you. Well," she paused, "mostly me, but whatever. You get the point."

"But you don't ever talk to me unless you're insulting me—and you usually don't even do that outside of Glee club. What could you and Brittany..." Her voice slowly trailed off.

"What?"

Santana watched as Rachel's eyes slightly narrowed and her expression contorted to one remarkably and eerily similar to that of Spongebob when he realized that Squidward liked Krabby Patties.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Santana shouted, throwing her hands up.

"I know why you're here." Rachel smirked. Her eyes glinted all-knowingly.

"Well do you now? Why don't you '_enlighten me_' then." Santana held up airquotes as she snarkily imitated the small-girl before her.

"I'd love to. Brittany must have told you about what she accidentally said to me earlier today. About you two." She pointed a finger in each of their directions. "And Santana, I must say, between dueting Landslide and observing the two of your behaviors during Glee club, it wasn't exactly much a surprise, really. I mean seriously, I can't even _begin_ to count the number of times I caught you slacking during rehearsal and leering at Brittany when she was next to Artie when you _should_ have been pulling your weight and singing backup and swaying behind _me_. But in all sincerity, as I believe I've said before, I really do believe you have a bit of likeable sapphic charm about yourself and I admire your devotion to Brittany. I find the whole thing quite endearing."

Santana crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. "Well Berry, I don't know whether I should take that as a compliment or whether I should be offended and go all Lima Heights on your little hobbit ass." She paused and pretended to weigh her choices. "You know, I'm not quite sure what it is, but something tells me that I should go with the latter of the two options."

Santana took a step closer and Rachel's eyes went a little wider. She held out a hand in between them. "No, there'll be no need for that," she squeaked. "Wait." Her voice returned to normal. "So you admit it then? I'm right?"

"Mm, maybe," Santana grunted, shrugging her shoulders and looking away to avoid Rachel's knowing eyes. She hated to admit that she was right. The last thing she needed was to feed the already overly-confident girl's ego.

"Well naturally I'm right about this sort of thing. Aside from being a talented singer, performer, and a tad bit psychic—I have mentioned my sixth sense, haven't I?—I'm also an acclaimed relationship-whisperer."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"What's that?" Brittany inquired from over in the corner.

"I'm glad you asked, Brittany. You see, I have the natural ability to sense pure, romantic chemistry between two people. I get this strange, tingling sensation whenever I feel it. Now, my ability would be pointless if I didn't put it to good use. So of course, much like a superhero, I use it for the greater good. I help people with their relationship troubles. Usually I use it to help people realize their true feelings for one another so that they can start a relationship. It's also good for helping couples work through their problems. I'm like the Dog Whisperer—but for couples."

Brittany cocked her head to the side."Why? Do you help their dogs too?"

Rachel ignored the question. "That's how I know that Finn and I are a perfect match. It's the reason we have such a strong, healthy relationship."

Santana snorted. "Oh please! Your relationship with Finn is about as healthy as roadkill."

Rachel gasped. "Take that back!"

"As if. But moving on, that's not what I came here to talk to you about."

"Then what do you want to talk about?" Rachel looked away, offended.

"We need to talk about something that you've learned today, how you should handle said knowledge, and what the potential consequences are if that information were to get into the wrong hands."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that if there's one thing bigger than your schnoz, Dwarf, it's your mouth. You remember a little thing called '_Babygate_'? Yeah, who was it that spilled the beans about Puck being the baby-daddy to Finn? Oh yeah, _you_. So here's what needs ta' go down. You will tell no one, and I mean _no one_ about what Brittany told you today. If anyone asks, Brittany and I are best friends. _That's it._" She began to pace around the room.

Behind Santana's back and out of Rachel's view, Brittany winced at the words. She looked down at her feet and dishearteningly fiddled with her hands in her lap.

"If you even so much as _think_ about telling anyone, or even if for some reason it accidentally slips out, I swear to God, Berry, I'll kick your ass all the way back to Narnia."

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "Well you know, Santana, that's actually really funny coming from you. You seem to be very concerned about people finding out that you're a lesbian. In fact, it seems to me that you're hiding so deep in the closet that _you_ could be in Narnia."

Santana froze. Her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open. It took a second for her brain to process what she had just heard. Once the words finally settled in, she gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils angrily. "Oh, you did not just say that! Come here, you little troll!" Santana abruptly lunged towards the bed.

"Santana, no!" Brittany called, jumping up from her chair and catching the snarling girl around the waist just in time.

Santana fought against Brittany's hold. "No me puedes hablar a mi como eso! Sabes quién soy? Soy Santana Lopez de Lima Heights Adjacent! Haré cosas malas a tú en tu sueño! Me oyes? Cosas horribles, tú monstruosamente criatura pequena!"

Rachel let out a frightened squeak and slid as far underneath the sheets as she could, pulling the ends of them tightly over her head. "That really won't be necessary!" She called from inside.

Brittany tightened her hold around Santana's waist as Santana continually struggled against her grip. "San, I don't know what you're saying, but it doesn't sound very nice! Stop that right now!"

Santana tried one last attempt at freeing herself from her captor's grasp. Her efforts, however, were lost on the taller, stronger girl."But I—!"

"No buts!" Brittany firmly stated.

At that Santana stopped struggling and stilled herself in Brittany's arms. She took the opportunity to revel in the tiny moment, taking in the feeling of Brittany's arms locked securely around her as she was tightly cradled against her torso. How she longed to be able to do this in public any time she wanted.

Almost as soon as Santana had time to enjoy the feeling, however, the moment was gone and Brittany unwrapped her arms from the smaller girl's body so that they were again separated. Santana scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Santana, you will not hurt Rach. Do you hear me?"

"Mmm."

"Santana..." Brittany warned, her tone condescending.

"Yes." Santana mumbled in reply.

"Now say you're sorry."

"Oh, c'mon, Britt! What are we, in kindergarten?" Santana scoffed.

"Say it. Now."

"I'm sorry, Rachel."

"What for?" Brittany added, drawing out her words in order to coax Santana into an actual apology.

"For talking shit to you in Spanish and for trying to attack you," Santana mumbled.

"Thank you." She turned to face Rachel who had her head poking out from underneath her fortress of sheets and blankets. "Now Rachel, I want you to apologize to San for making fun of her."

"What?" Rachel gasped, fully emerging and furrowing her brow at Brittany in surprise. "But I was provoked! I was simply verbally defending myself!"

Brittany crossed her arms over her chest but did not respond.

Rachel looked back and forth between the two, her mouth hanging open a little. "You've got to be kidding me," she finally said, settling her gaze back on Brittany.

"Does this face look like I'm kidding?" Brittany pointed to her expression. It was practically as deadpan as her voice.

Rachel let out a sigh and fixed her eyes on Santana. "I'm sorry for making fun of you, Santana. You don't actually live in Narnia."

Santana rolled her eyes.

"Okay good. Now both of you," Brittany turned and addressed each of the girls in turn. "I'm going to refer to one of the great philosophers of our generation and say that if you neither of you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Brittany, that's Thumper."

"And...?"

Rachel conceded with a little sigh."Never mind."

At that Santana hid a tiny smile.

"Since it doesn't seem like you two can play nice together, I'm going to have be the meteor for the rest of this talk."

"I'm sorry, you want to be a _space_ _rock_?" Rachel's face contorted in confusion.

"She means mediator," Santana nonchalantly chimed in, like it was the most obvious thing she had ever heard.

"Yeah, that." Brittany quickly added, not paying much attention to either of them. "But let's get this over with. I'm ready to go to sleep and I want to get my cuddles on with S." With those words, Santana's heart swelled and a small smile played at her lips as a slow heat crawled up her neck and cheeks. "Let's start with you, San. What do you need to say to Rachel? And no insults. Rachel, no interrupting."

Santana looked between the two of them. "Uhhhhh, well first of all," she settled her gaze on Rachel, "I don't appreciate you telling my Britts that she doesn't know anything about a 'real' relationship."

"Oh, you mean earlier today?"

"Rachel, no interrupting!" Brittany scolded.

Rachel pouted and a muttered a little, "Fine." under her breath.

"Yeah. You obviously don't know anything about what goes on between the two of us so you're not one to judge. And for the record, Brittany would make the most amazing girlfriend ever. She would kick ass at relationships."

Brittany blushed. "Awww, San, do you really mean that?"

Santana nodded and offered a genuine smile in Brittany's direction. Brittany's heart flooded with joy at the sight of it.

"Hey, uh, are you two lovebirds just going to keep staring at each other? Or can I say something?" Rachel waved a hand to try and get their attentions.

Brittany finally pulled her eyes away from Santana. "Oh yeah. Go ahead, Rach."

"Thank you," Rachel began. "I would like to formally make an apology for that statement. I said it solely out of frustration. At the time I was angry about what Brittany said to me and I was clearly out of line. As much as it kills me to say it, you're right, Santana. I don't know anything about your relationship with Brittany. I'm very ignorant about the subject, as I think most are, and was simply speaking based off of my prior knowledge of Brittany's lengthy list of sexual encounters and failed attempts at lasting relationships with both Kurt and Artie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it and I apologize to both you."

The room was silent for a moment until Brittany spoke up. "That's okay. I forgive you."

"Mmm." Santana mumbled and shrugged her shoulders.

"Anything else you'd like to say, San?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," Santana nodded her head. "Listen, Berry. My relationship with Brittany is complicated, alright? Obviously I'm not very public about my...feelings," she looked over to Brittany and then back to Rachel, "or my sexuality for that matter, and I'd like to keep it that way. What Brittany said to you today was an accident. No one is supposed to know. So I'm asking you, not just as the most popular girl in school with a life-threatening secret on the line who will kick your ass if it gets out—"

Brittany cleared her throat loudly and threw a dirty look at Santana, who in response sheepishly mouthed a little "Sorry".

"But I'm asking you as a—a friend," she slightly stumbled over the word, "to please not tell anyone. I need to keep this under wraps right now. I'm sure you can understand why. Not just for my sake, though, but for Brittany's as well. I don't want her to get hurt. Neither of us are ready to deal with the consequences of this yet. So can you promise me that you'll keep this to yourself?"

Santana gazed hopefully at Rachel who seemed genuinely surprised at her sincerity. She watched as Rachel tucked her hands against her body, her eyes downtrodden and saddened by her plea. "You really love her, don't you?" She mumbled quietly, unable to look Santana directly in the eye.

Santana looked from Rachel to Brittany, who had silently been listening and observing throughout the conversation, but was now peering down at Santana. "Yeah, I do." She nodded at Brittany. Her eyes conveyed her sincerity and her voice was tentative but also full of candor.

Brittany's heart skipped a beat. It was so nice to hear Santana admit it aloud, and not even just to herself, but in front of someone else—even if that someone else was just Rachel. It gave Brittany butterflies in her stomach, but they were the good kind—not the kind she usually got when she nervous and about to go on stage to dance a solo—no, these were definitely the good kind and they were welcomed with open arms. In response to Santana, she gave her a warm, soft smile and stepped closer to lightly touch the back of her hand.

Rachel stared at their hands for a brief second before she tore her eyes away and gazed back up at both of them, not bothering to look at either one in particular. "That's very touching, Santana, and let me tell you, my chemistry-sense is tingling like crazy right now. However, as for your proposition, although I don't have any first-hand experience in your situation, I do understand your plight and your motives and rationale are reasonable. From here on out, I promise not to tell anyone what you or Brittany have confided in me today. There's just one little issue..." Her voice trailed off at the end.

Santana's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Rachel stared at her lap and whispered, "I kind of already said something about it to Mercedes."

Santana's heart sank in her chest. The color drained from her face and her knees went weak. All the hope that had slowly filled her throughout their conversation seemed to drain right out of her with that one confession. She was left feeling tired, worn-down, and hopeless. Her smile vanished and she slowly sank to her knees.

"Nooooo! No, no, no, no, no!" She cried, throwing her hands up. "Why does this have to happen to me? Why now?" She buried her face in her hands. She wanted to cry, but there was no way she was going to do that with Rachel around. "Fuck me," she mumbled.

Brittany's mouth hung open and she glanced between the crumpled Santana and the frightened-looking Rachel who appeared to be close to tears. She gave Rachel a harsh look that read something along the lines of, 'How could you? Look what you've done now!'. Lowering herself to the ground, she sat on the floor and pulled the broken Santana onto her lap. Santana leaned into her and Brittany wrapped her arms around her securely. "Why?" Santana whispered again, although this time it was clearly directed at Rachel rather than a rhetorical question.

"I'm so sorry, Santana. I was on the phone with her. We were talking about Glee club and I asked if she knew. I didn't want to be the last one to find out about something like this for once. I always am. For some reason, nobody ever tells me these things and I wanted to know if I got left out again. I'm really sorry, Santana. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Santana shook her head against Brittany's chest. "Whatever. What's done is done. Now I have to fix it."

Brittany sighed heavily and hugged Santana tighter against her body. "Something tells me I won't be going to sleep very soon."

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><p><strong>Note: I wrote this before **SPOILER** we found out that our girls were going to be back on the Cheerios. So ignore the tiny part about Santana not being one anymore. Anyway, I hope you liked it. Please review! Lots of reviews equal faster updates!<strong>

**Extra credit: Can you find the little reference I made to my other story 'The Universe & You'? The winner gets a gold star!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: A gold star to Orange-Green for getting the coma reference from the extra credit question from the last chapter! Nice job! This is a short one. Enjoy!**

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><p>"God, I can't believe that little troll! Honestly, what the hell is she doing? You don't just go around blabbing people's deepest, darkest secrets to <em>everyone<em>! Well, I mean, I do, but that's just because I'm a bitch. But I would never do that about someone's sexuality! Seriously, who does that? That's just...cruel! Don't get mad at me or anything, Britt, but if you hadn't been there I so would have gone all Lima Heights on her ass. That little dwarf—making me drive all around Lima in the middle of the fucking night and keeping me up when I could be back at home in bed, sleeping, and gettin' my cuddle on with my Britts. Ugh. B, all I ask is that you let me hit her once. That's all I want. One time. That's it. No more, no less. Because little miss Broadway Barbie needs ta' be taught a lesson. You _do not _mess with Santana Motherfucking Lopez. No, _so_ not okay. Or...maybe I can shove her into a locker instead. It would be a little cramped, but making her fit shouldn't be too much of an issue. Would you prefer that, B? Except for the initial struggle it's usually a little less violent. B?"

Santana tore her eyes from the road and briefly switched her focus over to the passenger seat of her car. Brittany was slumped in her seat and she had her head resting in the palm of her hand. Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes were closed softly. Her deep, rhythmic breaths were muffled against the skin of her hand.

Santana gently shook her shoulder. "Britt. Wake up."

"Mmmm."

"Hey, wake up! This is not the time for sleeping!" Santana gave Brittany's shoulder a much firmer shake.

Brittany let out a startled snort. "Huh?" Her eyes shot open and she jumped in her seat, surprised by the sudden wake-up call.

"How can you sleep at a time like this? We're on a mission!"

"But San..." Brittany whined.

"No. I don't want to hear it. You can sleep later."

"But I'm tired! I came over to your house to sleep, remember?"

"Vaguely."

"I need my beauty sleep."

"You look stunning," Santana said, the sarcasm radiating in her voice. She offered a sly smirk over to Brittany who crossed her arms against her chest and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Brittany groaned.

"You know I'm kidding, Britt-Britt. You always look beautiful, no matter what." Her smirk faded to a light genuine smile.

At the remark, Brittany uncrossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. She propped her feet up above the glove compartment. "Thanks, San."

"Mhm."

"Why can't it just wait until morning, though? Human beings aren't usually up this late...or is it technically early? Which one is it?"

"Either works. Use whichever one you want."

"Oh, okay." Brittany scratched her head as she went into a bit of daze while she contemplated what she had just learned. "My point is," she continued thoughtfully, returning her focus to Santana, "Mercedes is probably asleep. She's not going to tell the world while she's snoozing. Worst case scenario, she does it in a dream, and I don't think that's anything to worry about."

"But what if she wakes up early tomorrow and decides to open that sassy mouth of hers before I have a chance to lay down the law? Or worse, maybe she'll start sleep-talking and call up everyone we know! I can't take that kind of a chance! It's too risky."

"Now you're just being paranoia."

"Paranoid, but close enough."

"Whatever. Seriously, Santana, I think you're overreacting a little. I know it's a big deal and that you're scared and all, but I think you need to relax, get a little sleep, and calm down before you do something or say something that you might regret."

"Something that I regret? Oh, so you mean like, I don't know, telling the biggest gossip in school besides me and Jewfro that I'm a lesbian and have a big, lesbian crush on you?" Santana retorted.

"Well no, not exa—" Brittany stopped short. "Oh..." she muttered. She defeatedly pulled her legs down and tucked them underneath her chin on her seat. Her expression wilted and she turned away to face the door to avoid what she assumed would be a fuming Santana's glare.

As soon as she had uttered the accusation, Santana instantly regretted it. She hadn't planned on being so straightforward and harsh. She had sort of been going for passive aggressive, but it was too late now. The words had slipped out before she could even think about what she was saying and now she was going to suffer the consequences. She had a habit of doing that far too much—but rarely did it ever happen with Brittany.

Maybe Brittany was right. Maybe she did need some sleep. She was feeling a little tired after all, and that was probably the reason why she was suddenly moody. One second she was joking around with Brittany, the next she was being a bitch. She needed to get her head on straight and sleep did sound nice. Not to mention doing so curled up next to her blonde, best friend was always a plus.

But she couldn't. She had to do this. She was almost at Mercedes' house anyway and it wouldn't make sense driving all the way back to Lima Heights Adjacent now. Not after they'd come this far. And she definitely couldn't risk what would happen in the morning—particularly since the two of them would probably be sleeping in late after this little excursion. There was too much risk involved and this was not something Santana was willing to bet her cards on.

She glanced over to Brittany who refused to look back at her. Despite not being able to see her face, her body language clearly spoke of dejection. Santana sighed and briefly shut her eyes before returning them to the road in front of her. She eased up on the gas a little and slowed the car to a more leisurely pace. "I'm sorry. That was out of line."

Upon hearing the meekness in Santana's voice (and an apology at that) rather than the accusatory backlash that she had been expecting, Brittany returned her gaze forward and shook her head. "No, you're right. This is all my fault."

Santana took a hand off the wheel and massaged her temples. "No, no, it's not. It's just as much Rachel's for telling and mine for not being open about this in the first place. Don't blame yourself."

"But I—"

"Can we please not argue? I really don't want to fight with you about this—or anything for that matter. Listen, you're right. I'm tired and it's making me irritable. I want to go home and go to sleep with you, but we're so close now that it would be a total waste to turn around and drive home."

It was quiet for a few moments that felt more like short lifetimes. "Fine," Brittany finally replied. "No more crying and no more arguing."

"Deal." Santana stuck out her pinky and Brittany linked it with her own in official agreement.

"Deal," Brittany echoed. "I hate it when you're mad at me anyway. It makes me a sad little panda."

"And I don't like it when you're mad at me either. Or when you're a sad little panda," Santana said. "Now can I ask you for some advice?"

"Of course, Sanny."

"Obviously the meeting with Rachel didn't go over too well. I don't want to make the same mistake with Mercedes. I don't really know how she's going to react, but something tells me she's going to be really cranky when we wake her up."

"Even worse than you."

"What? I'm not cranky when I wake up..." Santana muttered under her breath.

"Yes you are. But that's okay. It's kind of cute."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Moving on! How should I approach this so that I don't do the same thing again?"

Brittany bit and chewed on her lower lip as she went deep into thought for a few moments. "Oh! I've got it!" She chimed.

"What?"

"Maybe instead of going to Mercedes' house, we can go see Dr. Howell instead! Then he can give you some of that Britney Spears gas and you can go into Mercedes' dream, like that time we combined our phantasies, and then you can tell her. That way you don't have to wake her up and neither of you will risk killing each other. Just put the idea in her head that she doesn't want to tell anyone. It'll be like Inception! Except you're way hotter than Leonardo DiCaprio."

Santana's jaw dropped and her mouth hung open. She raised a questioning eyebrow. "Uh, well you know that's a really clever idea, Britt-Britt, but unfortunately I don't know where Dr. Howell lives. Or if he'd even be willing to help us in the first place. He'd want to know why I want the anesthesia. And something tells me that he's not going to believe me when I say I need a middle of the night-emergency-super-strong bleaching. But good idea nonetheless." She reached over and gave Brittany's hand a little squeezed.

"Yeah, you're totally right."

"A for effort, though." Santana nodded and gave Brittany a thumbs up.

"Maybe you should just straight up tell her what the problem is and ask her not to tell. No insults, no threats, and no fighting or attacking her." Brittany suggested pensively. "That way it won't take long and we can go home and sleep." She finished the thought with a bit of enthusiasm.

"Easier said than done."

"Oh c'mon, San. It wouldn't kill you to be nice to someone for one little conversation. Just pretend we're in Glee and performing a group number. That always puts you in a better mood."

Santana sighed in concession. "Fine," she said in a huff. "I'll give it a try. But just know that I'm only doing this for you."

"Thank you, Sanny." Brittany smiled triumphantly and leaned over to give Santana a light peck on the cheek. "You're very sweet."

Santana felt herself blush. "Like I said, only for you, Britt."

At that moment she pulled up to the curb next to Mercedes' house and turned the car off. She unfastened her seat belt and then leaned back in her seat, tilting her head back and closing her eyes for a couple seconds. "I can't believe I have to do this," she exhaled.

Santana opened her eyes when she felt a warm, comforting hand over her own. Brittany smiled over at her encouragingly, as if to say, "you can do this".

The grip on the back of Santana's hand was loose, so she turned her own over to wrap her fingers around Brittany's palm so that their hands were interlocked. She gave Brittany's hand a reassuring squeeze.

Brittany took the gesture as a silent thank-you.

The two remained that way for a full silent minute until eventually Santana pulled her hand away. "Alright, let's get this over with."

"Atta girl. Go get 'em, tiger!"

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><p><strong>AN: I loved this chapter so I hope you did too! Please review! It makes me a happy author.**

**And here's your extra credit question: Can you find the line I stole from Mean Girls?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: EEK! Sorry about the wait for this one. I moved to the opposite coast for college and it's been crazy hectic ever since. I hope you can forgive me. Enjoy!**

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><p>"So...how do you plan on getting up there?"<p>

Brittany gazed up at the second floor window of one Mercedes Jones' bedroom. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Santana pensively doing the same. Santana wore that deep-in-thought, furrowed brow, scrunched-eye expression that she always got when the wheels and gears in her head were a'turnin'. She was a sort of creative genius when it came to problem solving for this kind of thing and whenever she got that look on her face it was only a matter of time before she had an idea.

The thing was, there was no obvious entrance into Mercedes' room. There was no nearby tree to climb like at Rachel's house, breaking in through the front door wasn't an option, and her window was open so they couldn't throw rocks at it to wake her up. They had already tried Mercedes' cell, and much like Rachel, she hadn't picked up. Having not originally planned on being here, the two hadn't taken the time to figure out just how meeting with Mercedes could possibly be accomplished when her bedroom was seemingly isolated on the second floor.

Brittany clenched her fists against her sides and squeezed her eyes shut, as if willing the window to magically open and for Mercedes to spontaneously appear, welcoming them with open arms. _Come on Mercedes, wake up!_

"Yep. Got it." Santana finally spoke up.

Brittany opened her eyes and turned to face Santana. "You know how we're going to get in?"

"Not exactly..." Santana said, drawing out the word. "But I know how _I'm_ getting in. It's pretty simple, really. I don't know how I didn't think of it sooner."

"What? You're not leaving me out here! If I have to be here with you then I'm at least coming in!"

"Don't worry. I'm not leaving you outside." She tapped Brittany playfully on the tip of her nose. "What kind of best friend do you think I am?"

The question was rhetorical, but Brittany answered anyway. "A good one..." she mumbled.

"Exactly," Santana chimed, turning and heading toward the garage at the front of the house.

"Well is there at least something I can do to help? I don't like feeling useless."

"Actually, yes. You can park my car right here." She pointed to a spot just feet away from the garage door. But, B," Santana turned to face Brittany, "only if you can do it _safely_." Her tone was stern and she pointed a finger to emphasize her warning. Brittany had her permit, but had failed the test to get her license multiple times (she had a tendency to confuse her rights and lefts and had a bad habit of randomly flooring the accelerator '_because it's fun that way_'.) Santana shuddered at the thought of the last time she rode in the car with Brittany at the wheel. Brittany had weaved in and out of traffic at a frightening speed and nearly killed the both of them—not that Brittany had noticed.

At the request, Brittany's eyes lit up. It was very rare that Santana let her drive when they were together, and even rarer than she would get to drive Santana's car. She bounded up and down a few times in excitement after she caught the keys that Santana tossed at her. "I won't let you down, San!"

She trotted over to the car, got in, and turned the key in the ignition. The sound of the motor roaring to life gave her a little adrenaline rush and she was briefly consumed by the desire to throw it into reverse and flatten her foot against the gas. Mercedes lived in the perfect neighborhood for pulling the E-break and doing some insane drifting. _No._ She couldn't. She quickly shook her head to rid the idea from her brain. Santana was counting on her and the sooner she got this done, the sooner she could go to sleep.

Gently pressing on the gas, she eased the car up over the curb and into the Jones' driveway, right over to where Santana was indicating. Having successfully parked the car, she got out and smiled in anticipation over at Santana.

"Good girl." Santana rewarded, offering her a pat on the shoulder. Brittany beamed with pride.

"Alright, now I need you to stay here. Don't follow me, okay?"

Brittany's smile fell a little. "Fine," she conceded hanging her head. The next thing she knew, Santana was climbing onto the hood and roof of her car. She then used the heightened platform so that she was in jumping distance of the edge of the roof over the garage.

From the top of her car, she was able to reach the edge of the roof and pull herself up relatively easily. From there, she tiptoed across the roof and climbed up onto the highest peak at the top of the house—being sure to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking anyone inside the house. Something about sneaking around on someone's roof in the middle of the night did not sound like the most innocent of acts.

Brittany cautiously followed alongside Santana from her spot on the ground until they were standing on the side of the house that contained Mercedes' bedroom window. Santana crouched down so that her back faced away from the house and tightly gripped the edge of the roof in her hands. Then without so much as a tiny bit of hesitation, she dropped her feet down and off the side so that she was hanging by just her arms.

Brittany gasped at the sight. "Shit! Santana! No, stop that! What are you doing?" She angrily said as loudly as she could while still attempting to keep her voice a whisper.

Santana angled her head over her shoulder to glance at Brittany. "Don't worry, Britt. It's fine."

In response Brittany anxiously crossed her arms against her chest and chewed on her lower lip. She watched as Santana used her hands to sidle over to Mercedes' window where she found the sill with the bottom of her feet. With a count to three and a silent prayer, she quickly crouched down to let go of the roof and take the top of the window in her hands. Once there, she easily slid herself through and into the house.

Brittany let out a heavy sigh of relief once Santana's form swiftly slipped inside and out of view. A few moments later, she heard her name being called from over at the front of the house, so she followed the voice to the source of the noise.

Santana stood inside the entrance to the home, the front door wide open. "C'mon!" She whispered, signaling to Brittany with a wave of her hand.

"Are you crazy?" Brittany asked with an exasperated wave of her arms as she approached the door.

"No, just determined. But I certainly wasn't going to let you follow me, that's for sure."

Brittany sighed. "You know you scare me sometimes, right?"

"Likewise. Now keep your voice down."

Trying to make as little noise as possible, the two quietly padded their way up the stairs and entered Mercedes' room. Once they were safely inside and the door was shut behind them, Santana immediately began to explore the room. On the other hand, Brittany crept right up to Mercedes and leaned over her sleeping figure that was curled up tightly underneath her layers of sheets and blankets.

Mercedes' right arm was thrown overtop her face so that her head was rested in the crook of her elbow and the right half of her face was concealed by flesh. That being said, the left side of her face was clearly visible and her mouth was hung wide open. Brittany found it extremely tempting to want to stick as many random objects inside it as she could, but quickly decided against it. Santana would probably get mad. A rather loud snore emitted from the sleeping Mercedes and Brittany had to repress a giggle from escaping her lips—not that it would have been heard over Mercedes' breathing anyway, but something about laughing just seemed a little rude.

Brittany looked up to see Santana close the window and then move across the room to stand next to her. "Ready?" Her voice contained a hint of exhaustion.

"Let's get it over with," Brittany replied with a sigh.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Santana gestured to Mercedes.

Brittany held up a hand and shook it to dispel the question. "No thanks. You can go ahead."

"You're just saying that because she's going be pissed when I wake her up, and then she'll eat me alive like one of her tots," Santana mumbled under her breath.

Brittany gave her a knowing smile and went to take a seat in the desk chair across the room.

Releasing one last sigh, Santana grabbed the covers that were pulled up around Mercedes' upper body and quickly tugged them off. "Alright, wake up, Aretha!"

At the sudden loss of warmth, Mercedes' snores were replaced with a surprised snort and her arms grabbed at the air as she unconsciously tried to pull the sheets back around her again. However, Santana had pulled them far too low for Mercedes to reach and she quickly began to stir in her sleep.

"Yeah, yeah, wake up already," Santana said with a roll of her eyes.

Without bothering to open her eyes, Mercedes loudly groaned and rolled over onto her stomach. She buried her face deep into her pillow. "Not yet," she mumbled into the pillow.

"C'mon, Weezy." Santana jabbed her in the arm with a finger.

"MMMMMMMMM!" At the touch, Mercedes angrily swatted Santana's hand away with an aggressive slap of her arm, her face still attached to her pillow.

Santana managed to pull her hand back in time and gave the stubborn girl in front of her a hard glare. "That's it! Mercedes Jones, you wake your ass up right now or I'll do it for you!" She yelled as loudly as she thought safe so as not to wake up anyone but the sleeping girl in the room.

Finally Mercedes began to roll over. "Just five more minutes, please? I—" She begged, but as she sat up and opened her eyes she stopped and stared wide-eyed at the girl standing in front of her.

"Oh hell no. What are _you_ doing here?" She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled menacingly.

"Oh, I don't know, I just thought I'd stop by and say hi." Santana feigned innocence, her tone ditzy and blatantly sarcastic.

"Bullshit." Mercedes spat. She leaned over and checked the clock on her bedside table and then returned her steady glare to Santana. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Oh, no! I definitely didn't bother to check the time or to take notice to the fact that it's the fucking black abyss outside!" Santana countered.

"Excuse me? I can't believe that you would have the audacity to come here, wake me up in the middle of the night, and then talk to me like that!" Mercedes waved a finger in Santana's face.

"Get your diva finger out of my grill, Weezy," Santana spat.

"Why don't you make me, Satan?"

"Try me. See how long you can keep that there without me biting it off your ghetto, Mariah-hand!"

The two were just inches apart, both poised and ready to strike if need be.

"Hey!" Brittany called from her all-seeing spot across the room. Instantly both girls were silenced and they turned toward the interruption in unison. Brittany wore a concerned yet stern look on her face as she quickly studied the both of them.

"Brittany? You're here too?"

"Mhm," Brittany nodded curtly. "You know you snore like a water buffalo?"

Mercedes' jaw dropped a little bit. "Uh—excuse me?" She sounded more confused than offended.

"So much for being non-confrontational, San." Brittany ignored Mercedes and instead crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow in Santana's direction.

"Oh yeah." Santana scratched her head awkwardly. "Sorry, I guess I forgot. I told you I was tired."

"Mhm. Whatever," Brittany scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Mercedes chimed in, interrupting the pair. "Why are you two in my room? And more importantly, how did you even get in here?"

"I break into houses at night. I was in the neighborhood so I thought I'd pop in and see how you're doing."

"Santana!" Brittany scolded loudly.

Santana whipped around to face Brittany. Her false smile instantly fell and she crossed her arms against her chest. "Sorry..."

"Why do you have to be so difficult about this?"

"I'm not being difficult..." she mumbled

"Yes, yes you are! We talked about this already! It wouldn't be so god damn hard if you just talked to her about it instead of being so mean! You'd think that you would have learned your lesson with Rachel. Obviously that didn't go very well. You're just getting yourself right back to where you started. You think Mercedes is going to want to help you if you're bitching at her?"

"I—"

"Let me finish!"

Santana hunched over a little at the sudden outburst.

"Um, hey! I'm still here!" Mercedes waved her hand around to try and catch their attentions.

"Not right now, Mercedes," Brittany snapped without bothering to even glance in her direction. "I love you, San. I really do, but unless it's just the two of us, sometimes you're just so...unreasonable! Rachel, Mercedes, the people in Glee club, they all want to be your friends. But you're so set on tearing them down that you won't give them the opportunity. Maybe if you didn't bitch at them for once, telling them about this wouldn't be such a big deal! Why do you have to be like this?"

Brittany's voice softened as she asked the final question of her spiel; her narrowed eyes and harsh words immediately vanishing back to the sweet, innocent, soft Brittany that everyone was so accustomed to. Not even Santana was very familiar with the angry, assertive version of the blonde cheerleader that had just escaped. In fact, she hadn't seen that Brittany since the "lebanese" incident.

But Brittany was tired and she was fed up with Santana's games. She was able to manage it most of the time, and hell, even she had a bit of reputation for occasionally being a bit of a bully, but now she wanted nothing more than to be done with their little night excursion and to be wrapped up in bed, snuggled against a warm Santana.

Santana was frozen. Her mouth hung open as she tried to form words. She attempted a few syllables but all that came out was a tiny squeak. She had certainly not been expecting that sort of reaction from her best friend—particularly since they had been getting along fine prior to this (minus the moment in the car.)

"Because-because—I'm scared," Santana finally managed. She pawed at the carpet with her foot, unable to look Brittany in the eye and completely ignoring Mercedes, who was still sitting silently in her bed.

"What are you so scared of, honey?" Brittany softly asked, moving in toward Santana and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She lifted Santana's chin with a finger and guided it upwards so that their gazes locked.

Santana was silent for a moment. She stared up into those big, blue eyes—those big, beautiful, wonderful, blue oceans that made her so genuinely happy, that gave her butterflies in her stomach, that made her fall so ridiciously head-over-heels for the girl, but at the same time, made her want to cry.

She couldn't cry though. Not in front of Mercedes. Not here. Not now.

So instead she gathered her focus and blinked a few times to ensure that no tears were going to form. "I'm just afraid that they won't want to help me because they don't like me," she murmured.

"San, that's silly. Of course they want to help you. Mercedes, Rachel, everyone will help you because we're your friends." Brittany chuckled and offered Santana a warm smile. "You don't need to scare them into it. All you have to do is ask. It's just like Hogwarts: _help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it_, and help will always be given to Santana when she asks for it."

Santana unsuccessfully hid a smile and shook her head playfully at Brittany."You're such a dork." This caused Brittany's own smile to practically double in size. "Yeah, I know. We all are."

"Are you sure that'll work?"

"Why don't you ask Mercedes and find out." Brittany chimed as she returned to her original seat.

Santana glanced over in Mercedes' direction to see her staring blankly at the duo. "So are you two going to let me in the loop now or what?" She sounded bored.

Santana took a deep breath and went over to sit on the foot of the bed. She turned to face Mercedes who was sitting up, patiently awaiting an explanation for the entire strange debacle.

"I have something to ask of you," Santana began cautiously. She briefly looked over to Brittany who gave her an encouraging nod.

"Is this what I think it's about?"

"It's about what Rachel told you on the phone about Britt and me."

"Wait." Mercedes held up a hand and let out a small chuckle with a shake of her head. "You mean to tell me that all of _this_ is just because you two like each other?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean that you just made a really big deal out of a whole 'lotta nothing. Half the Glee club already knows about you guys."

Santana's heart felt like it dropped all way through her chest, down her legs, and into her feet. Her eyes went wide for a second before she shook her head as if to dispel what she was sure she had misheard. "Wait, what did you just say?" She leaned forward a little and narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"You heard me. We all know about you guys..." she trailed off quietly for a short second. "Well, most of us. Finn's ignorant and probably doesn't suspect a thing and Rachel was out of the loop until today. Honestly, it's not a shock to anyone. When Rachel told me on the phone earlier, I didn't even bat an eyelid. You honestly couldn't have been more obvious about the whole thing. The majority of us have suspected something since the moment you two joined the Glee club with Quinn, and our suspicions were confirmed two years ago with Brittany's slip-up on the party line."

Santana's jaw fell slack to the floor and she shook her head again in disbelief. _Was I really that obvious?_

Mercedes began to laugh at her shocked expression. Spinning around, Santana shot a look of concern in Brittany's direction, but Brittany merely shrugged her shoulders in a rather apathetic manner.

She turned to face Mercedes again. "S-S-Seriously?" She stammered.

"Uh huh. It's not a big deal, Santana. We don't care who you like. Although I was a bit surprised to hear you were a lesbian. I thought it was just Brittany you had the hots for. And as for Britt, who she dated was never really a questioning matter for any of us because after a while we ran out of the ability to be surprised."

"So-so-so you guys are okay with it? With me and Britts being...together...if we wanted to?"

"Yeah, of course...wait. You guys aren't together yet?"

"No..."

"Ah hell to the no! Why not? You two are practically trippin' all over each other!"

"Because..." Santana mumbled, switching her gaze to her feet.

"Because Santana doesn't want people to know about us," Brittany interrupted. "That's why we came here tonight."

"Oh God. What were you going to do? Beat it out of me?" Mercedes asked, concerned.

"No...you see, Brittany came over to my house and told me that she accidentally told Rachel our secret," Santana began slowly. "So we went to go talk to her to make sure that she wouldn't tell anyone. Long story short, that didn't go over very well. Eventually I got her to agree not to tell anyone, but then she told us that she had already told you. I was worried that you might tell someone, so we had to come talk to you too. That's what I came to ask you—if you could please not tell anyone about me or about us," she signaled between Brittany and herself. "I'm not ready to tell people yet. Even if I do want to be with Brittany." Her voice quietly trailed off at the end.

"What kind of person do you think I am? Of course I won't tell anyone. Look, I may have been the one to have told everyone about Quinn and Puck, and I still feel terrible about that, by the way, but I wouldn't purposely try to humiliate you, Santana. I may be a bit of a diva sometimes, but I'm not mean. Why did you have to come over right now, though? It couldn't have waited until the morning?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't want this to get out of hand. I couldn't risk waiting because the consequences were too great. It put me, my reputation, and Brittany in danger and I just couldn't have that. This was more than just a little mistake. It was a big problem and I had to fix it."

"So you don't trust me?"

"No, it's not that—"

"Rachel and me, and everyone in the Glee club, we're your friends. Just like Brittany said. Why can't you trust us?"

"I told you not to take it the wrong—"

"You know, Santana, maybe this isn't the problem you need to fix. Maybe you need to fix you."

Santana froze. "W-W-What do you mean by that?" She stumbled over her words.

"That's for you to decide. Listen, your secret is safe with me. You have my word." She held up a palm as a means of treatise. "Now please get out of my house. This diva needs her sleep. Not to mention Brittany's about to pass out back there," she pointed across the room to where Brittany was slumped against the back wall, her eyes droopy, and a twisted expression playing at her lips.

Santana exhaled a sigh and nodded her head ever so slightly. She slowly padded over to Brittany and softly took her best friend's long, slender hand in her own. "C'mon, B. Let's go."

Brittany nodded silently, her eyelids only half open, and began to follow Santana as she was led out of the room.

Just as Santana was about to exit, she turned toward Mercedes who was resettling herself comfortably beneath the covers. "Thank you, Mercedes." Her voice was low and almost timid.

"You're welcome. Don't forget to lock the door on your way out."

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><p><strong>I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I hope it wasn't too bad. Please review. Thanks guys. Oh. And not like it matters or anything...but GLEE STARTS ON TUESDAY.<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Hey everyone, I really want to apologize for the delay. I've been crazy busy lately. In fact, I've had to write this entirely during classes. (I'm an outstanding student, I know. But it's all okay because I wrote it in English Composition class. So that makes it okay because I'm composing. In English.) Anyway, enjoy.**

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><p>"San?"<p>

"Hm?"

"You've been awfully quiet...are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm just tired. That's all."

"...that's not true. Well, I mean, you are tired, obviously, but something is wrong."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I know you."

The car grew quiet and Santana's hands gripped the wheel a little tighter. Sometimes she hated that Brittany knew her so well. On the rare occasion that she actually wanted to keep something to herself the act of doing so became seemingly impossible. Brittany could pick up on emotions and feelings better than practically anyone she had ever met—combine that with the amount of time she had spent with Brittany since the beginning of their friendship and the depth of their relationship and Santana became about as transparent as a piece of glass.

"Are you upset about what I said to you back there? Is it because I called you a bitch?"

"No, no. That doesn't bother me. I'm a straight up bitch most of the time anyway and that's exactly what I was being to Mercedes. You were right, though. That wasn't going to get me anywhere. I'm glad you called me out on it. We probably would still be in there right now if it wasn't for you. So yeah, uh, thanks for that."

"You're welcome. So what is it then? I know something's not right, San. Tell me what's bothering you. Please?"

It wasn't so much that Santana was unwilling to tell Brittany about what was on her mind, it was more that she was feeling a little overwhelmed with the whole situation; between the events of that night, what she had learned from the encounters with the people that were supposed to be and claimed to be her friends, and the rapidly-consuming haze of exhaustion that with each passing minute threatened to completely engulf her. Her chaotic thoughts and tired emotions only thickened the fog in her brain, sending her spiraling even further into exhaustion. No, it wasn't that she was opposed to talking about that night's occurrences with Brittany—if she had learned anything from that night it was that Brittany was the level-headed one. She had helped her through the confrontations that could have only dragged her down and taken her to the complete opposite place than she wanted and needed to be. Really, she owed the supposed "success" that the night had been all to the girl sitting in the seat directly next to her, but it was more that she just wanted to sleep it all off. She hoped that would clear her head and make her feel better.

"Is it what Mercedes said to you?"

"Wait. What?" Santana was snapped out of her thoughts.

"Is what Mercedes said to you what's bothering you?"

"Oh...I don't know..."

The truth was: Brittany was right. Again. Mercedes' words were exactly at the root of her problems. Of course there was Rachel too and everything that she said which only fueled what Mercedes had said, but Mercedes' exact words had stuck with her and in doing so greatly confused her. They kept repeating themselves over and over again like a broken record or a creepy voicemail in a cheesy horror movie. _"Maybe this isn't the problem you need to fix. Maybe you need to fix you."_

_But what is that even supposed to mean?_

What was wrong with her? Mercedes made it sound so inhuman—like she was...broken or something. The thought of that practically made her cringe. How could she be broken? She was Santana Lopez: straight up bitch, most popular girl in all of McKinley and the hottest piece of action that school had undoubtably ever seen, (ex) head Cheerio, and indisputably the most talented person in all of Glee club (not to mention in all the school.) No way was she in need of "fixing". No, she had her shit together.

But if that was the case, then why was it bothering her so much?

"Santana," Brittany firmly chimed in an attempt to once again regain the faltering attention of the girl in the driver's seat next to her.

"Huh?" She answered, her voice rising as she was again startled out of her thoughts.

"You were spacing out."

"Oh, sorry." Her tone was soft and a little absentminded.

"It worries me when you get this way, you know."

"Please don't worry about me, Britt. I'm fine. My job is to worry about you. The last thing I need is to worry about you worrying about me."

"You don't need to worry about me, San. I can take care of myself."

Santana shrugged and the car fell silent.

"So if that worries me," Brittany cautiously began, breaking the silence, "does that mean that I worry about you worrying about me worrying about you?"

Santana glanced away from the road long enough to raise an eyebrow at Brittany.

"Did that even make sense?" Brittany questioned, biting her bottom lip and fighting off a little puzzled grin.

"I don't even know." Santana stifled a chuckle and offered a small, playful smile in Brittany's direction. Brittany couldn't resist returning the gesture after finding a tiny crack in her best friend's newest suit of armor. "C'mon, let's talk," she insisted, this time being more playful with her tone, seeing as she was having an easier time getting through to Santana with this method of attack.

Santana glanced over at Brittany who sported her most innocent of looks, one that made Santana's entire body ache and insides hurt to just look at. _God, it's so hard to resist that face._ She quickly turned away and set her eyes back to the road. The longer she stared the more she wanted to lean over and kiss that face and tell her that she would be alright and everything would be okay in the end. But that felt like a lie. So she restrained herself.

"Awww, c'mon, Sanny. Just a little talk. Unicorn to unicorn. Pleaseeee?" Brittany whined.

At that moment Santana arrived back at her house, pulled the car into her driveway and shut off the engine. She leaned back in her seat and tilted her head against the headrest. She took a slow, deep breath and closed her eyes. Even with her eyes shut she could feel Brittany's continuous, steady gaze on her—just waiting. After a few silent moments she lifted a single eyelid to see Brittany, as predicted, gazing over at her—hope glistening in big, blue eyes. Santana let out a loud sigh. "You really want to talk about it?"

Brittany nodded enthusiastically.

"And it will make you feel better if we do?"

"Yeahhhhh," Brittany replied drawing out the world unsteadily, a secondary agenda evident in her voice, "but more importantly I think it will make you feel better."

Santana's expression twisted and her line of sight subtly shifted downwards.

"That's all I want, San. For you to not feel like this. I just want you to be happy."

At that, Santana's previously stiff shoulders went limp and her chest let out a painful ache as another wave of sadness swept through her. With a solemn expression plastered all over her face she slowly reached over and carefully tucked a few stray, blonde hairs behind Brittany's ear. "Why are you so good to me?" She asked in a hushed whisper.

"Because you make me happy and all I want is to do the same for you."

A pale, slender hand slid overtop Santana's. She tried to swallow but a knot seemed to have formed in her throat. She felt her eyes glaze over and grow watery as tears began to accumulate in the corners and so she willed against them as hard as she could so as not for them to escape. Looking at Brittany's soft, genuine smile and warm, innocently-glowing eyes only made things worse. She had to get out of this car before she completely lost it.

"Alright, fine," she conceded in a hushed voice. "But let's talk inside." Swiftly and nearly silently she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to Brittany's forehead. "I don't deserve you." Opening the door, she stepped out of the car and headed for the front door.

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><p><strong>Short, I know, but necessary for story progression. I don't know when I'm going to get around to writing next (especially considering I don't have many English classes left!) but I go home for Christmas break in a little less than a month so I'll have lots of time to write if I don't get around to it until then. <strong>

**Isn't it funny how they ended up performing Fix You on the show? Too bad it was a Wemma song. Oh well, at least Brittana stood next to each other and swayed in the background like props. I guess I'm partially psychic.**

**Feedback would be awesome. Thanks for being patient and sticking around with me. You guys really have no idea how much I appreciate it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Oh my god, oh my god, you guys! (Bonus points if you can tell me what that's from!) I'm really sorry to the 82329720341 power that it took me forever to update this. But I'm here now! Reunited and it feel so good! So please forgive me. Also, I wrote a fluffy little Christmas one-shot about a week ago so go check that out if you like feeling warm, fuzzy feelings. I hope you enjoy!**

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><p>"Can we talk now?" Brittany eased her lean figure underneath the covers of Santana's bed and guided her eyes around the room to follow Santana as she solemnly put away her belongings.<p>

"I don't know."

"San..." Brittany whined.

"What?" Santana threw her a hard glare.

"Please?"

Santana ripped off her sweatpants, revealing the shorts she had been wearing earlier and removed her sweatshirt before tossing it to the ground. She slowly moped over to the bed and crawled under the covers next to Brittany. Together they leaned against the headboard, they're bodies tensed and separated from one another. Santana crossed her arms against her chest.

"Now?"

"What is there to talk about, B?" Santana snapped. Almost instantly she regretted doing so. She hadn't meant to react so harshly. However, Brittany didn't seem at all phased by Santana's tone. "Sorry," Santana mumbled. She looked down to avoid Brittany's gaze. "I just don't really know what there is to talk about. I'm sure we're both thinking the exact same thing anyway because we're always doing shit like that."

"Just tell me what you're feeling," Brittany encouraged.

"What I'm feeling? Well for one thing, I have no idea what the _fuck _I'm feeling!" Santana threw her arms up. "I'm angry at everyone because apparently every _fucking person_ in that choir room knows about you and me. The few people that I'm actually willing to open myself up to for even just the tiniest little bit—the people that I'm supposed to trust the most—and not a single fucking one of them had the balls to tell me something that I had to work so god damn hard to hide! And Mercedes makes it sound like it's no big fucking deal!"

"Is it?" Brittany interjected.

"I don't fucking know! And I'm just so confused because what does this mean? Like, if everyone in Glee club knows about us, what about the rest of the school? Is it just as obvious to them? Do I walk down the halls on fire like some big flaming lesbian? Should I just cut off all my hair, start wearing flannel, and scream about how much I love The L-Word now?"

"San, calm down." Brittany rested a comforting hand atop Santana's thigh. "Just take a deep breath."

"I'm sorry, B, but it's kind of hard for me to relax when everyone in the entire fucking school might know my biggest secret!" Her heart was pounding erratically and at any second it felt like it might just beat right out of her chest. Her breathing was beginning to take a similar route, her breaths becoming labored and heavy.

"Have they been acting any different?"

"Huh?"

"The people at school. Have they been acting any different toward you?"

"No..."

"Then either they don't know or they don't care. Maybe a little of both."

"But I can't be sure of that, B! I'm not going to join the gay-parade with Blaine and Kurt! I wasn't ready to leave my little Narnia-closet yet and all of a sudden I feel like the entire Glee club is throwing me out. And that's not okay." Santana's voice immediately became very small and Brittany watched as her entire defense seemed to crumble right in front of her. "I'm just so scared, B."

With that very statement Brittany's heart felt like it broke into tiny pieces. She hated seeing Santana look so confused and broken. She moved closer to Santana and wrapped her arms around her tiny body. She pulled her against her body and Santana leaned into the touch, burying her head into Brittany's side.

Brittany could feel Santana shaking, her body lurching with each impending sob that threatened to strike and wrack her body. "San, it's okay. You can cry." She ran her hand soothingly through long, dark hair.

"No. I can't. In the car." She sniffled. "We said. No more. Crying." She buried her head further into Brittany's body.

"Hey, forget about that. Baby, it's okay to cry. Let it all out. I'll be here for you when you're done."

And so Santana did. She cried for what felt like ages. The tears poured until her eyes were red and puffy and she could no longer make any more. She ran her tear ducts absolutely dry. A small ocean had formed on Brittany's shirt, but that was the last of her worries. She simply let Santana be, offering only a comforting hand caressing through Santana's hair and a protective embrace.

"Is that better?" Brittany finally asked once she was sure that Santana had finished with her tears.

Santana nodded against her.

"Can we talk about it some more?"

"I don't know what to say." Santana sniffled.

"How about what Mercedes said to you."

"She said I need to fix myself."

"And...?"

"I don't get it. I was just trying to set things right so that we wouldn't get hurt in case things got out of hand. I don't understand what's so wrong about that."

"I'm not sure if that was the problem, hun. I think it was more of an issue of trust. Mercedes seemed kind of pissed that you didn't trust her enough not to tell."

"But Rachel told!"

"Yeah, but Rachel's just a blubbermouth."

Santana snorted and had to hide the smile that instantly took over her face. "I think you mean 'blabbermouth'. Although now I'm picturing Rachel happily swimming the ocean amongst her family of whales and it's pretty hysterical."

Brittany gently nudged Santana in the ribs. "Stop that." She had a hard time concealing her own smile, though. "We know that Rachel has problems keeping her mouth shut about stuff, but she's never had a problem with that outside of Glee club."

"Hm."

"Santana, Mercedes and I both think that you need to give a little credit to your friends—because that's what we are. We're your friends no matter how much you make fun of them or how much drama is going on any particular day. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Glee club is a family. And as a family we have to trust each other. Ohana means, family, San. And family means no one gets left behind."

Santana laughed under her breath. She glanced up at Brittany and gave her a sweet smile. "That may not have been most effective saying there, Britt."

Brittany just shrugged her shoulders. "Oh well. It sounds nice and happy and it certainly got a smile out of you. My point is that you really need to trust them. I can promise you that if you give them that then everything will be okay."

"You think so?" Santana squeaked apprehensively.

"I know so." Brittany replied, her voice full of confidence and hope.

Santana lowered herself a little so that her head rested in the crook of Brittany's elbow. She draped an arm across her own body and rested it atop Brittany's stomach where she softly drew small patterns with her fingers.

"I still have no idea what the hell I should be feeling right now," she said.

"That's okay."

"What do you think I should do, Britt-Britt?"

Brittany sighed and closed her eyes. A gentle silence overtook the room as she pondered the question, her eyes going spacey and distant like they often did when she got lost in her own thoughts.

"I think you should talk to the Glee club...but only if you're ready." She returned her attention back to Santana.

Santana gulped. "I don't know..."

"If what Mercedes said is true, then it won't be a big deal and you'll get some piece of mind. And if not, then...maybe that's a step in the right direction to coming out. You know?"

Santana exhaled loudly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, but only if you're ready. I can call a meeting and get everyone together before Glee club tomorrow if you'd like."

"You think it'll make things a little better?"

"I promise." She held up her pinky finger.

Santana stared at it. "Only if while I'm up there you stand beside me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Okay then." Santana linked her pinky with Brittany's.

"Can we go to sleep now?" Santana asked. "I don't want to think anymore."

"I've been waiting to hear you say that all night."

The two smiled at each other before Santana turned off the light and sidled up next to Brittany. Brittany snaked an arm around her and placed a kiss against the back of her neck.

"Good night, San."

"Night, B. I love you."

"I love you too."

"Like never before?"

Brittany smiled, her eyes closed and a soft laugh quietly escaping her lips. "Like never before."

The room went silent. Although Santana was sure that Brittany was asleep—she could feel the rhythmic pattern of her chest inhaling and exhaling against her back—her mind was still whirring. She was nervous about the next day. She had no idea what she was going to say or how her...friends, were going to react. She eventually settled on the idea that it was better if she just didn't think about it. At this point it took way too much effort to think, anyway. Finally, she felt herself slipping close to unconsciousness. Her eyes were beginning to droop and her brain finally starting to slow down.

"Hey, you know, you were right earlier." Brittany's voice broke through the silence.

"Huh? About what?" The voice tore Santana from her stupor and she slowly lifted her eyelids.

"When you said that I don't deserve you."

Santana's heart skipped a beat and her whole body seemed to freeze, her eyes growing wide. "_W-wha-what?_" She stammered.

"I don't deserve anyone as amazing and beautiful and perfect as you."

Santana breathed out a silent sigh of relief. "Well you know what, I don't deserve to be able to kiss you right now, but is that going to stop me? I don't think so."

She rolled over and propped herself up on her elbows to place her lips against her girlfriend's. Brittany smiled against the kiss, and briefly pulled back "Ooh, a rebel." She returned her mouth to Santana's before again separating their lips. "That's kind of hot."

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><p><strong>AN: **It's kind of weird writing intheflannelcloset!Santana when she's already "out" in the show, but whatever. I hope that was okay. I tried to balance the angst with a little bit of humor since I'm trying to be light-hearted with this story, but every time I write Santana I just get so many angsty feelings! Anyway, definitely look out for more soon! I love reviews and suggestions! (Wink, wink.)


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